I love self-awareness. Life is hard enough as it is; going through it without that is like driving at night without headlights in reverse on a slick road in the mountains with no guardrail and no windshield wipers, which wouldn't do much good anyway against the grapefruit-sized hail pelting your $57,000 body job with go-faster racing decals, and no radio stations in signal range to soothe your apprehensions...just the blinding bolts of lightning that echoes forgotten dreams of that interstate you diverted from three days ago because you knew a "shortcut" that would get you to where you're going in less than half the time, and, as your food supplies run low and the baying hounds compete with the thunderclaps to remind you what a colossal fool you are, thinking to yourself..."I don't understand why I'm here," never realizing that fate wrote the legislation but you were the one who signed it into law. Then, when the rescue teams find your burned out car at the bottom of a forested cliff some weeks later, they'll ask themselves, "Who was this mook and where were they in such a hurry to get to?" It's like that.